Member-only story
The Labyrinth at Chartres: Death and Renewal
The labyrinth is one of human culture’s most ancient and widespread symbols.
While the Bicycling with the Saints and Sinners ride ended in Tours, France, a tad more abruptly than planned, the labyrinth in the Chartres Cathedral captured my energy. Following a minor bicycle accident that limited my riding, my friend Loren and I rented a vehicle and drove a couple of hours north to Chartres.
I had long been attracted to the labyrinth in the Chartres Cathedral, so I fully embraced this opportunity. Something about the symbolism, with its mandala-like appearance, beckons.
The labyrinth is one of human culture’s most ancient and widespread symbols. Designs dating back to the Neolithic period have been discovered in various parts of the world, from prehistoric rock carvings and cave paintings to intricate patterns on the floors of medieval cathedrals. The labyrinth is a winding path toward some center of hope and wholeness and, I suggest, a hint of the sacred spans all religions and cultures.
Some people can intentionally walk the whole labyrinth slowly and meditatively. Others battle the urge to treat the experience like a race car driver having just sipped the last few drops of an afternoon espresso. Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz Weber says she sometimes gets road rage in a labyrinth as she wants to rush through the maze. I fall somewhere in the middle, the muddled middle. I’m in a hurry to slow down.
Chartres was relatively open on the day we visited. We were early enough to avoid the tour buses that would arrive in the afternoon. In delightful English with a strong French accent, the guide at the entrance to the labyrinth explained there are no right or wrong ways to proceed, and if you wish to pass someone moving slower than you, you may do so. She concluded by asking that once you arrive at the center, you may take some time, but be mindful that there are others behind you hoping to enter as well. “So take your time, but not too much time,” she said.
